


i can tell this is gonna be a long road (and i will hold on to you)

by jemmaswan



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Christmas, F/M, Fluff, Kid Fic, Meet-Cute, Single Parents
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-09-23 16:42:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17083979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jemmaswan/pseuds/jemmaswan
Summary: On an hour-long flight, Leopold Fitz learns a lot about Jemma Simmons.He learns that she is a pediatrician practicing in the heart of D.C., not far from the airport, though she’s originally from Sheffield, England. She also favors tea to coffee, but dumps both for peppermint hot chocolate annually for the entire month of December. She loves science fiction/fantasy novels, children’s films, and anything to do with space, and luckily so does her daughter. Currently, the two of them are traveling to Partridge, Massachusetts—a town about an hour south of Boston that sounds entirely too cheesy to be real—to spend Christmas with her old friends.And most importantly, she’s single.—aka, a cheesy hallmark christmas movie-style au.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> yes this is a christmas fic, yes the title is from new year's day by taylor swift. just go with it. 
> 
> thank you laura for beta-ing/cheerleading as always <3

_ “Zone five passengers, we are now boarding zone five passengers.” _

 

“That’s us, Addie.” Jemma Simmons announces brightly from her seat at their gate. “Have you got all of your things?”

 

“I think so,”  the seven-year-old answers. They both turn to look at the sound of a wailing infant, carried by a young and disheveled looking father to the front of the line as quickly as possible, both of which appear to be dreading this flight more than anyone on board. 

 

Voicing her thoughts as usual, Addie says, “I don’t think that baby is happy at _ all _ .”

 

“I think you’re quite right, darling.” Jemma shakes her head, empathetic, and rises to her feet. As she lifts her carry-on, she doesn’t miss the way her daughter remains seated and tightly squeezes the arm of her chair.

 

Jemma drops to one knee, grabbing Addie’s attention. “I know you’re nervous, and it’s okay to be nervous too,” she says, cupping her cheek with her palm and stroking the soft skin there with her thumb. “But you’re my brave girl; I know you can handle this.”

 

Addie grins and nods, and they rise together, holding their carry-ons and making their way to the line forming.

 

As they walk along the jet bridge, Jemma takes her daughter’s hand and swings it between them. “I’ll bet once we get up there, you’ll love it so much you’ll never want to take the car again. You’ll be asking for your own private aircraft next Christmas.” 

 

“Mum _ -ee,”  _ Addie chuckles, shaking her head, only to grip her hand a touch tighter once they reach the end of the bridge, just two steps away from boarding the plane. After taking a deep breath, she keeps moving forward on her treacherous quest.

 

“Now, Addigator,” Jemma releases her hand to step just behind her, as the isle is far too narrow to continue moving two-wide. She drops her hands onto her shoulders and squeezes gently. “Be on the lookout for the letter J. That’s where we’re headed.” She has to bite her bottom lip to keep from laughing at how seriously Addie takes this new task, squinting upwards and taking her time to scan each and every letter she passes.

 

“There it is!”

 

“Great work! Now, look for the numbers eighteen and nineteen. That’s where we’ll sit.”

 

Addie stops and points her finger to the left side, counting off: “Sixteen, seventeen,” then moves to the right, “eighteen and nineteen! ...and twenty.”

 

Jemma turns to look, and their neighbor already settled in seat J20 is none other than the disheveled, exasperated, scruffy—and handsome, she admits before she can stop herself—dad himself, unhappy baby in tow. 

 

Oh. 

 

—

 

Leopold Fitz is trying his best. 

 

That’s what he tells himself as he hauls ass to the attendant with a nine month old wailing inconsolably and strapped to his chest, facing outwardly and scowling. 

 

He supposes the initial trip to D.C. raised his expectations of what kind of flyer Molly would be. She was fantastic the whole way there, gurgling cheekily at all the new friends she’d made throughout both flights and sleeping the entirety of the layover in between. Now, three days and one lateral incisor in the making later, she has chosen to scream bloody murder most of the morning at the hotel, on and off during feedings and diaper changes, and absolutely all the way across terminal B—regardless of any straw he has grasped in order to remedy her. Fitz thinks he and the rest of Delta flight 8947 are in for a rather loud trip. He almost wants to pass out apologetic earplugs and travel sized bottles of rum to everyone on board, as suggested initially by his best friend Hunter when he dropped them off at the airport.

 

“Enjoy your flight,” the attendant says after scanning the pass.

 

“You too,” he replies, and then promptly smacks himself on the forehead on their way down the jet bridge. He’s entirely too sleep-deprived to fret over his poor social skills at this point.

 

“Okay, it’s okay, we’re almost there,” he murmurs, more to himself than the baby. He finds their row and shuffles into the window seat. More passengers maneuver around them, some roll their eyes at the noise and his obvious struggling and others narrow their eyes in his direction. Fitz feels like he’s two centimeters tall under a microscope. 

 

_ So much for the holiday spirit,  _ he thinks to himself.  _ Have some bloody sympathy, for god's sake.  _

 

He unfastens Molly from her bjorn and cradles her in one arm, offering her a knuckle to gnaw on for the time being. Indignant, but pacified, she still spouts out unhappy noises but at this point he’ll take it.

 

Fitz tips his head against the closed window, exhaling for what feels like the first time all day. His blissful silence only lasts a few minutes, before he catches two passengers stopping in front of his row. 

 

“Eighteen and nineteen! ...and twenty,” a small voice announces. He glances up to find a perplexed little girl staring at him, clearly not expecting guests. Next to her is not only unmistakingly her mother, but also probably the prettiest woman he’s ever seen. The woman offers him a sunny smile and—of all things—he gives her a nod in return, casting his eyes back to Molly on his lap.

 

“Well, this is us. Have a seat, darling.” The little girl hesitates, but eventually plops down on the seat next to him, her mother following behind.

 

Naturally, this is the time that Molly grows bored of his finger and starts to cry again. He sighs heavily, defeated, and tries to worm his arm down to the diaper bag at his feet, which, due to the passenger ahead who has decided to push his seat all the way back, is just out of reach.  _ Terrific. _

 

Somehow amongst his struggling and Molly’s wailing, he overhears the whispered conversation of his two neighbors, that sounds like this:

 

_ “Could you ask him?” _

 

_ “Darling, he’s a bit busy at the moment.” _

 

_ “But we’re taking off soon and then I can’t see.” _

 

_ “I know, but you can see around him. I won’t trouble him.” _

 

_ “But what if  _ I _ ask him?” _

 

“There a problem?” Fitz interrupts, still trying to reach the bag while keeping the baby upright. The mother and daughter both blink up at him with identical brown eyes, apparently surprised to find him listening. He gives a bemused smile in return.

 

“Ah, well,” the mother grins a bit nervously, then continues over the noise coming from his lap, “it’s my daughter’s first flight and she’s a bit nervous, and I was hoping we would board early enough so that she could take the window seat so she could watch everything unfold.”

 

“Oh, really?” he glances down at her daughter, who shrugs sheepishly. “First flight, huh?”

 

“Yeah,” she says, and he turns to the baby fussing in his arms. 

 

“Molly here’s got you beat. She went on her first—and second, technically—just a few days ago. I think you’re handling it better though.” The little girl chuckles, earning another grin from her mum. “Tell you what. Molly’s favorite toy is in her diaper bag right here,” he gestures below him. “It always calms her down when she’s upset, but I can’t seem to reach it.”

 

She gives him a quizzical look, so he continues. “If you will help me get it out for her, I will gladly swap seats so you can have the window.”

 

Smart girl she is, she glances back at her mother for approval before rummaging through a stranger’s carry-on. The woman locks eyes with him, to which he concludes with a wink, and then turns back to her daughter. 

 

“Go on, then.” The moment the child turns back around, brimming with determination and excitement, she mouths a quick  _ thank you _ in his direction. 

 

He smiles. “Okay then, it should be in that pocket, just there. I managed to get the zipper open but my arm isn’t small enough to weave under the seat. Not with this one, anyway.”

 

“I think mine is!” she chips. After a minute of shuffling around, she huffs. “I can feel it, but I think it’s caught on something. I can’t pull it out.”

 

Fitz frowns. “Hmm. Okay, let me see if I can…” he tries to maneuver his arm along with hers, but falls short when Molly vocally protests. “Come on, bit. We’ve almost got it.”

 

“I can take her.”

 

—

 

“I can take her,” Jemma offers before she can stop herself. The man blinks owlishly at her, evidently caught by surprise, and it’s only that moment in which she can see beyond the dark circles under his eyes and notice exactly how blue his irises are. And then she notices that she’s paused her statement upon noticing them. “If that’ll help,” she continues. 

 

He turns his head between her and the baby—Molly, he’d said her name was—and nods, quickly. “Yeah, yeah that’d be helpful.” Carefully, he adjusts his hold on Molly. “Up we go.”

 

She reaches her arms across Addie’s seat and he passes her the squirming infant. Immediately, she pulls her to her chest and pats her on the back. “We’re a bit unhappy, aren’t we?” she murmurs, rocking in her seat. The baby’s cries soften to quieter fussing as her daughter and their seatmate work together to untangle the toy from where it’s caught in the bag, and she tips her head against the soft tufts of hair against her neck. It’s been such a long while since she has held a baby for an extended period of time; a few minutes of snuggling won’t kill her.

 

“Aha!” he says at long last, raising one arm of a very well-loved soft monkey, Addie triumphantly holding up the other arm. He’s about to hand it off to Molly, but he halts in his tracks. “She’s— _ how _ .”

 

Somehow, without her even noticing, the baby has dozed off against her shoulder. 

 

“Oh,” Jemma smiles, running her fingertips over the back of her onesie, “I suppose she’s worn herself out.”

 

“It’s about time, given that this is the first time she hasn’t been screaming at me since about 3am.” He breathes a sigh of relief, running his fingers through the messy curls atop his head, and turns back to Addie. “Regardless, this couldn’t have happened without your help.” He points his thumb to the window behind him. “Seat’s all yours.”

 

Addie cheers gratefully, hopping to her feet and shuffling behind the man as he trades their spots, ending up next to Jemma instead, just as the pilot breaks through over the intercom system. She introduces herself and notifies the passengers that they are clear for takeoff.

 

“Watch, darling,” Jemma says, beaming as her daughter’s face lights up through the reflection in the window as the aircraft begins to pick up speed down the track.

 

The man taps her arm lightly. “I can, uh, I can take her back now, if you want.”

 

“She’s alright, I wouldn’t want to interrupt her sleep in the transition.” Then, as she remembers she has quite literally  _ just _ met this man and is holding his baby, she adds: “If that’s okay with you?”

 

“Yeah, no—that’s absolutely fine. We just might wanna…” slowly, he lifts Molly’s chunky little arm to tuck the sweet monkey beneath it. He also brushes a few strands of Jemma’s hair out of the baby’s face, and she has to suppress her shiver from the jolt of electricity she feels as his fingertips brush against her ear. “So no one has to deal with her wrath once she wakes up.”

 

“Right,” she agrees. “I’m Jemma Simmons, by the way.”

 

“Leopold Fitz—or just Fitz, please.”

 

“Nice to meet you, just Fitz.” He shakes his head, grinning at her.

 

“Not that you aren’t already well acquainted with her, but that’s Molly.”

 

“Molly, like Molly Weasley?”

 

“Ringwald, actually,” he chuckles. “Had it been my choice, I would’ve gone for the former though.”

 

She doesn’t miss the way his eyes grow cloudy for a split second, but he doesn’t add to it so she doesn’t ask.

 

It’s literally a split second, because Addie interjects with, “And I’m Addie,” in typical Addie fashion. “I think you were right, Mummy. I think I want to fly everywhere now.”

 

—

 

On an hour-long flight, Fitz learns a lot about this Jemma Simmons to his right. And it’s probably smart that he does, given that she’s been holding Molly for just about the entirety of it.

 

He learns that she is a pediatrician practicing in the heart of D.C., not far from the airport, though she’s originally from Sheffield, England. She also favors tea to coffee, but dumps both for peppermint hot chocolate annually for the entire month of December. She loves science fiction/fantasy novels, children’s films, and anything to do with space, and luckily so does Addie. Currently, the two of them are traveling to Partridge, Massachusetts—a town about an hour south of Boston that sounds entirely too cheesy to be real—to spend Christmas with her old friends.

 

And most importantly, she’s single.

 

Okay, maybe not  _ most _ importantly, but Fitz is unable to stop himself from thinking about it since she mentioned it.

 

In turn, he gives her his own story of the move from Scotland to Maine, because it was apparently his life’s mission to design buildings somewhere colder than where he grew up. She’d laughed at that, and the sound warmed him immensely. He also tells her his favorite books, and the cartoons he finds himself watching even after Molly has fallen asleep. She starts to list hers as well, and then they both notice how Addie has fallen asleep with her mouth open and her head tipped against his arm, the toys she’d brought in her solar system backpack spread out around her, causing twin warm grins to spread on their faces.

 

“So you were looking for apartments in the city?” Jemma recalls, pressing her palm to the baby’s back as she shifts her lower against her chest, giving her shoulder a break.

 

“Yeah,” Fitz nods. “I’ve been staying at home with this one for the past few months, and my best friend lives out that way. He has a connection to a construction company looking for a new architectural lead. Figured a change of scenery would do us some good.”

 

“Well, if you haven’t found the one I would be happy to send you some informations on complexes I would recommend; we just recently moved ourselves.” 

 

“Really?”

 

“Absolutely! I also send you some day care options too, we went through a few when Addie was small to find the right fit.” Quickly, she pulls out her phone with her free hand and opens her contacts, handing it to him. 

 

“That would be incredible, actually.” He pecks his thumbs against her keyboard, then hands it back to him. “Thank you, really.”

 

“I’ll send you a text when we get off so you’ll know it’s me,” she says, just as the intercom signal chimes, causing both Molly and Addie to stir. 

 

_ “Thank you everyone for joining us today,” _ the pilot says.  _ “We’ll be landing at Boston Logan International in about fifteen minutes. It’s about 29 degrees Fahrenheit with expected snow on deck, so be sure to bundle up. Happy holidays, everyone!” _

 

Molly lets out a yawn, stretching her little limbs out against Jemma’s upper body. She blinks back into consciousness and gurgles contentedly, eyes on Fitz. He smiles.

 

“There’s my girl,” he says softly. “That nap what you needed?” Molly smiles lazily, batting her monkey against Jemma’s shoulder. “Alright, c’mere.” He scoops her into his arms, settling her in his lap and dropping a kiss on top of her head. “Thanks again for holding her.”   
  


“Oh it was no trouble, she was good company.” Jemma eyes her daughter across his seat, who is still trying to wake up as the plane declines in altitude. “Thanks for switching seats with her. I think she enjoyed the trip.”

 

“She’s not the only one.”

 

At that, she grins, and raises her hand to thumb at Molly’s cheek. “I’m sure your girlfriend will be glad to be reunited.”

 

Fitz chokes on the air he meant to inhale. “Oh uh, no. No no, no girlfriend,” he stammers. “It’s just me and Mol.”

 

Jemma’s eyes open wide. “Oh I’m  _ so _ sorry. I of all people shouldn’t assume! I’m terribly sorry.”

 

“S’alright.” He says, watching as she glances around the plane frantically.  _ Excellent job, mate. Now you’ve made her feel bad. _ “Really, it’s okay. I promise.”

 

She gives him a nod, holding his gaze for a long moment, before the plane jerks roughly as it lands. Then, she reaches over him to shake at Addie’s shoulder. “Hey, pick up your things, we’re getting off in just a moment.” The little girl starts picking up her toys and shoving them in her backpack on autopilot—eyelids still heavy with sleep.

 

Soon, the four of them are migrating off the jet bridge together, Addie taking the lead with a skip in her step as if only remembering where they are now. 

 

“How long is your layover?” Jemma asks when they reach the end, reigning her daughter back to her by the hand by twirling her around.

 

“Bout an hour and a half, just enough time to have this one fed and changed and ready for the next.” She offers him a sweet smile that has heart settling in his chest. 

 

“Well, I hope it runs smoothly.” She pulls out her phone and taps it a few times, before showing the screen to him. “I’ve just texted you so you’ll have my number and I’ll send you the information about the complexes soon.”

 

“Looking forward to it,” he grins.

 

She beams down at Addie, “Well,  _ we _ have got to go catch our luggage.” Turning back to face him, she squeezes his arm. “It was lovely to meet you, Fitz. And you too, Molly.”

 

“Likewise,” Fitz says. “Happy Christmas.”

 

“Happy Christmas!” Jemma and Addie chime together, before heading towards baggage claim, and he lets out a shaky breath he didn’t even know he was holding.

 

“Well,” he tips his head down to face Molly, who is sucking on her fingers, “I suppose we should fetch you something to eat, yeah?”

 

—

 

Later, Jemma smiles warmly as she listens to Addie sing the mostly correct lyrics of a Christmas tune in the backseat of their rental. The snowfall is starting to pick up the closer they get, so she flicks on the headlights and watches more attentively for the Partridge exit. She hopes it isn’t as heavy on the runway back at the airport; Fitz and Molly still had a connecting flight to catch. 

 

“Here we are, Addigirl,” she points to the Now Entering sign. 

 

Her daughter squeals with delight. “Posy needs to see this too!” Jemma watches her rummage through her bag for the small toy in the rearview cheerfully, until she feels her phone buzz in her lap. Her breath hitches when she sees which name has lit up the screen. She hits the speaker button to stay hands-free.

 

“Hi Fitz! Shouldn’t you be boarding by now?” She startles as the sound of a familiar unhappy cry fills the car.

 

_ “We have a problem,” _ Fitz says quickly.

 

“I’ll say,” Addie agrees. Jemma turns her head slightly in confusion, only to gasp when she sees what her child is holding up:

 

Molly’s monkey.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We made a friend on the plane who has a baby, and somehow her special toy made it into Addie’s carry on,” Jemma gives her daughter an accusatory frown, to which she shrugs. “So I told him I would bring it back since his connecting flight was delayed.”
> 
> “Interesting,” Bobbi turns and stage-whispers to Addie: “Was he cute?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> linda LISTEN I know it is no longer christmas and I know I added another chapter last minute but hopefully some intense eye contact might make it better?

“Auntie Bobbi!” Addie cries after her mother swings opens the door, barreling into the woman in question—who would have fallen over from the sheer force of the seven-year-old if she wasn’t used to their reunions.

 

Automatically, Bobbi throws the roll of garland in her arms to the lobby sofa, drops to one knee and catches her in a fierce hug. “There’s my tiny best friend!” She pulls back to beam at the little girl, only to gasp up at her instead as she sinks back on her feet. “My  _ god _ have you grown a foot or am I shrinking?”

 

“Stand  _ up _ , Bobbi!” Addie giggles, tugging her by the arm to resume her regular, above-average height. “There you are!”

 

“Oh right, my mistake,” she chuckles.

 

“No, Addie, I don’t need  _ any _ help bringing in our luggage,” Jemma grumbles loudly, struggling to hold the door open while hauling all of the bags over the threshold. Bobbi quickly props the the door open with her foot and Addie steals her sky blue suitcase, pulling it to the main lobby. She frowns at the garland scattered on the sofa.

 

“You’re not done decorating? Tomorrow is Christmas Eve!” 

 

“I  _ know, _ believe me. But with the grand re-opening of this place I feel like I should give it a little extra  _ umph _ , you know? Make it look as Christmas card Christmas as possible.”

 

“Well, it looks lovely, Bobbi,” Jemma glances around the room and into the kitchen. “The updates look great!”

 

“Thank you,” Bobbi smiles. “And thank you both for being my first official guests!”

 

“Official?” Addie questions.

 

“Well, your Auntie Daisy decided to crash here the night before last when I opened so I would have at least  _ one _ taker here, but I didn’t charge her so it doesn’t really count.” She gives Jemma a knowing look off her last statement.

 

“Don’t look at me like that! I told you I am supporting your business and paying in full and that’s  _ final.”  _ Bobbi holds up her hand to mime a mouth opening and closing and lets out a dramatic  _ blah blah blah blah _ , earning a peal of laughter from her niece. “Anyway, would you mind watching Addie and helping her settle in? I have to run back to the airport.”

 

“What? Why?”

 

“She has to take Molly’s monkey back to Mr. Fitz!” Addie supplies, not clearing her confusion in the slightest.

 

“We made a friend on the plane who has a baby, and somehow her special toy made it into Addie’s carry on,” she gives her daughter an accusatory frown, to which she shrugs. “So I told him I would bring it back since his connecting flight was delayed.”

 

“Interesting,” Bobbi turns and stage-whispers to Addie: “Was he cute?” Addie nods gleefully.

 

“Oh enough, you two. I’ll be back.” But before she can make it out the door, her phone rings again. “Hello, Fitz. I was about to walk out the door.”

 

_ “Actually, change of plans. Our flight was canceled due to heavy snow on the track and the overnights are all booked up, so I was gonna take a rental and drive that way to look for a hotel for the night. Would you be interested in meeting us halfway instead?” _

 

Jemma eyes the welcome mat on the front steps, and it’s as if a lightbulb has suddenly been lit. “I have a better idea.” Covering the phone with her hand, she asks, “Hey Bobbi, do you have a room ready for another guest?”

 

—

 

With Molly and their luggage in tow, Fitz arrives at the address Jemma had texted him later in the evening, knocking lightly on the cheery red door. The door swings open about half a second later, revealing Jemma’s smile that shines brighter than a Christmas tree.

 

The moment she’s in view, Molly squeals in delight, bouncing in her bjorn against his chest and reaching for her with both chubby hands. 

 

“Why hello, sweetheart!” she immediately extends her arms, reaching for her, only to pause to meet his eye. “Oh, sorry. May I?”

 

“Of course, she’s already answered your question, so,” he grins and unclasps the main strap, allowing Jemma to free her and swoop her into her arms. She chuckles as the baby bats at her face.

 

“Hi Mr. Fitz!” Addie, he recalls, comes to a skittering halt from around the corner. 

 

He nods, friendly. “No  _ mister _ necessary; Fitz is just fine.” Addie gives him a broad smile at this.

 

“I think that we might have something that belongs to you, darling,” Jemma says sweetly to Molly, and tilts her head at her daughter. On cue, she reveals what she is holding behind her back: none other than Monkey himself. Addie waves the monkey into Molly’s line of vision until her mouth drops open in a very happy smile, snatching it greedily and immediately gnawing on her favorite ear. It is quite the reunion.

 

A tall blonde woman emerges from around the corner as well, folding her arms over her chest as she eyes him from head to toe. Fitz isn’t sure why this intimidates him, or why he started holding his breath, but he finds himself exhaling when she cracks an amused grin. 

 

“Would these be our surprise guests?”

 

“The ones and only!” Jemma confirms. “Bobbi, this is our new friend, Fitz. Fitz, this is our old friend, Bobbi.”

 

“Nice to meet you, Bobbi,” he shakes her hand. “Can’t say I’ve heard much about you, other than you’re the owner of the wonderfully cozy Bed and Breakfast we’ll be staying in.”

 

“Wish I could say the same about you,” she says quickly, and he would have missed the sudden pinkness of Jemma’s cheeks if it wasn’t for the glare she’d shot her too. He tries to hide his smile. “And  _ you _ must be Molly!” 

 

—

 

Cheeks still flaming, Jemma is thankful she hears her daughter’s stomach growl loudly enough to derail the conversation from Bobbi’s unnecessary interrogation of Fitz. She suggests going out for and early dinner and Bobbi, as hoped, politely declines.

 

Handing Molly back to Fitz to assist Addie in pulling her coat back on, she leads their little group down the street, grinning brightly as she sees the sign for  _ May’s Diner _ around the corner, along with enough festive decorations for a building three times the size.

 

Upon further inspection once they’ve shaken the snow off their shoulders and hats, Jemma gasps as she takes in the apparently new layout of her favorite spot to eat. “Wow, she’s really done a remarkable job with this place.”

 

“Damn right she has,” a familiar voice calls. Jemma spins around to find the owner of said voice stepping out from behind the counter. “Could that really be my favorite niece? Right before my eyes? And she hasn’t hugged me  _ once _ in the ten seconds she’s been here?”

 

Jemma beams as Addie runs to meet her in a hug, then watches as Fitz takes in the homey environment as in intently as she does. “So this the famous May, I’m presuming?”

 

“Her daughter, actually. She took over when May was elected mayor,” Jemma corrects, before tackling the woman in question. “Oh, it’s so good to see you! Daisy, this is Fitz, and this is Molly.” She gestures to each of them. “I know introductions are in order, but really, I can’t get over how lovely the renovations turned out!”

 

“Please,” Daisy laughs, tightening her loose ponytail and tucking the shorter tendrils of hair behind her ear, “compliment away. We’re not modest.” 

 

They catch up for another moment, until Addie interjects impatiently, “Can we eat now?” Jemma gives her a stern look, but Fitz snorts, sounding both amused and in agreeance.

 

“I’d be insulted if you didn’t,” Daisy grins, leading them to a booth by the window and tugging a baby seat along the way. 

 

After taking their orders, Jemma’s usual for both herself and Addie, and then Fitz by her recommendation, and making unexpected small talk with a few other regulars that remembered her and pepper her with lighthearted questions about whom her handsome new friend is, Fitz shakes his head, laughing.

 

“What?” She asks.

 

“Nothing,” he chuckles, and she frowns. “I just can’t wrap my head it—how did you find  _ this _ place out of a whole world of possibilities?”

 

“Craigslist,” Addie supplies for him without looking up from the napkin she is tearing into a snowflake, which has the eyebrows of both adults at the table shooting to the ceiling.

 

“No, I, well, not  _ exactly _ .” She explains how her father used to travel to the states all the time growing up, and her grandparents brought him to Partridge one Christmas and he spoke so highly about this magical little town years later that she had to see it for herself. This lead to her choosing the closest University as possible. She’d lived in the dormitory on campus for the first semester but found herself driving the thirty minutes back to Partridge so often that,  _ yes _ , she  _ did _ in fact put an ad on Craigslist for either a potential off-campus roommate in town or perhaps a family that wouldn’t mind an extra guest. 

 

“And Melinda May answered,” she smiles. “I lived with her and Daisy and worked part-time at her diner in exchange for housing the entirety of my undergrad, and once I got into med school I spent every winter break here until I had this one, and some after.”

 

“Wow, you must really love this place then.” She grows a little insecure at his comment at first, afraid she might have rambled too long—which she’s prone to doing when she’s passionate about the subject—but he’s smiling and something deep inside her knows it’s genuine.

 

“I really, really do. Almost considered moving here, but I didn’t want Addie to be too far away from—“ she covers her mouth quickly, mentally cursing for even  _ accidentally _ bringing that up, but luckily Daisy has returned with their plates at the best of times, momentarily distracting Addie so that she does not hear the last bit.

 

Fitz gives her a quizzical glance, but she shakes her head, shifting her sight line to her daughter and back, hoping he receives her message. He does, taking his food from Daisy immediately.

 

—

 

Fitz groans comfortably as they exit, handing Molly off to Jemma so he can button his coat with both hands free. “That was genuinely the best thing I have ever tasted. Honestly.” 

 

“Told you to trust me, didn’t I?” Jemma smirks. “And I’ll let you in on a secret: I was the one who suggested they add the pesto aioli.”

 

He whips his head around to face her. “No way.”

 

“Indeed. Over a decade later, it’s still served as such!”

 

“You’re brilliant. Not that I didn’t find you brilliant to start with, but wow. You’re a bloody genius.” He feels satisfied, watching her try to hide her blush from behind Molly’s hooded head even though her smile gives it away entirely. They walk in companionable silence in the light snowfall, save for the baby’s soft gurgling. Addie speeds ahead of them, cackling away as the snow beneath her boots makes a range of noises, depending on its depth. Fairy lights and garland decorate every shop the pass along the way to Bobbi’s, making their walk very festive and luminescent.

 

Oh yes, it is entirely picturesque, until Fitz turns at the sound of Addie calling his name just before a single snowball has collided with his chest from up ahead.

 

“Addie!” Jemma snaps, already apologizing profusely before even saying the words, but another is heading in their direction and smashes into his knee.

 

“She’s got quite the arm there,” he comments, and she looks ready to say sorry  _ again _ but he’s already kneeling and shoveling and hurling his own snowball back to her. It hits center on her coat and she giggles mischievously, diving to form another.

 

When a ball beams Jemma in the back of her head, time seems to stop. The game comes to a halt immediately, and Fitz himself is about to apologize for egging her on, but Molly bursts belatedly into laughter, cracking Jemma’s attempt at a stern demeanor. She passes her back to him and grabs a handful of snow of the bench they’ve stopped in front of, chasing after her daughter and pelting her in the back.

 

They sprint the remainder of the way back, only stopping to duck behind various streetlights and evergreen trees as a barrier. For the most part, the adults have rotated who is holding Molly—much to her clear delight—and who is throwing snowballs at the seven-year-old, until Fitz decides to carefully hand her to Addie and hold up a gloved finger to his lips. He forms a ball, calls out Jemma’s name, and beams her right in the chest as soon as she turns around.

 

Unexpectedly, this causes her to lose her footing and fall backwards. Her hands scramble to catch her balance, and he’s the only thing remotely close, so she grabs on to his scarf and tugs him down with her. 

 

Startled at suddenly landing half on top of her and also seeing her amber eyes at the closest proximity thus far, he gasps rather than catches his breath, and it seems that she as equally as surprised at the turn of events—her gaze never unlocking from his.

 

She’s flushed quite a lot in the day he’s known her.

 

Neither make a move until Addie starts cackling, causing Molly to giggle along with her. This breaks them. 

 

Jemma tips her head back into the scattered snow, her brown locks making a stark contrast against it, as she laughs wholeheartedly, rumbling against him. He laughs the same, shaking as he tries to push himself up with his palms but failing as they slip and slide on either side of her, making them both laugh harder.

 

“What in the  _ world _ is going on out here?” They both turn their heads sharply to find Bobbi smirking at them on the doormat. 

 

Fitz scrambles to his feet off her comment, offering Jemma a hand to heave her up. She stumbles a bit on the slippery patch of grass they have just uncovered, so he steadies her by the waist with his free hand.

 

“Um,” he blinks at her, at a loss for words.

 

“Thank you,” she says softly, and it’s only after a moment that he realizes he’s still holding her hand. And her waist. He quickly releases her.

 

“Yeah,” he nods. “Anytime.”

 

“O-kay, weirdos,” Bobbi interrupts, snapping them both out of it for the second time in a five minute span as she takes Molly from Addie, hoisting her onto her hip. “I think it’s time for some peppermint hot chocolate.”

 

Off that, they do finally make their way back to the house, cheerfully painted mugs all around as they gather on the lobby sofas to watch  _ Frosty the Snowman _ —per Addie’s request—until Fitz retires to put Molly down in her pack ‘n play for the night.

 

And the way Jemma tells him  _ goodnight  _ with the lights from the tree shining in her eyes warms him far more than the hot chocolate does.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma rises the morning of Christmas Eve a little later than usual. The pre-holiday of years past with a young child usually gone at Father Christmas speed—with last minute cooking, decorating, and shopping, wrapping presents, alternating locations and coordinating with He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named (very mature, Jemma), all while trying to capsulize every drop of innocent, childlike wonder on Addie’s face throughout the festivities. And every year, as the day catches up to her, she is exhausted.
> 
> But this year, she reflects, is different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy new year! I’m still writing a christmas fic.

Jemma rises the morning of Christmas Eve a little later than usual. The pre-holiday of years past with a young child usually gone at Father Christmas speed—with last minute cooking, decorating, and shopping, wrapping presents, alternating locations and coordinating with He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named (very mature, Jemma), all while trying to capsulize every drop of innocent, childlike wonder on Addie’s face throughout the festivities. And every year, as the day catches up to her, she is exhausted.

 

But this year, she reflects, is different. 

 

Rather than waste any more precious time considering this, she relaxes back into the guest bed pillows with a sigh, stretching her arms and pointing her toes. Blindly, she reaches to her left, seeking out Addie, but the small space her daughter had adopted overnight is empty and cold—her pillow and Posy the elephant are left in her place. This is strange, being so in tune with her usual morning patterns, her movement typically rouses Jemma from even the deepest slumber. 

 

That, or a bored or lonesome Addie takes it upon herself to shake her awake the moment she opens her eyes.

 

So, the absence  _ is _ a bit strange.

 

She finds her just minutes later. But rather than bouncing on the tips of her toes—insisting to Bobbi that they simply  _ must _ get an early start on baking cookies—like she’d expected, Addie is sitting at the breakfast table, chattering away as Fitz is wiping a spot of his shirt off with a wet paper towel, more than likely Molly’s doing, given that she is covered in a pale yellow mush and clapping her sticky hands together from her tabletop booster seat. Something about the sight makes her heart settle in her chest.

 

When she makes herself known, he spins around and gives her a warm smile, revealing even  _ more _ globs of baby food in his hair and on his shirt collar.

 

“Hey,” he says, then glances around, like he’s forgotten something important. “Ah, here,” he continues after taking a steaming mug from the table and pressing the warm ceramic into her hands. “Hot chocolate, with peppermint.”

 

“I added the chocolate chips on top,” Addie states proudly around the bite of eggs she has just taken. “Happy Christmas Eve, Mummy!”

 

“Happy Christmas Eve indeed,” Jemma beams, the first sip from her mug warming her to her toes. “Thank you.”

 

“Bobbi is our grocery shopping, but she made breakfast before she left,” he explains after freeing himself of the remaining goop as she takes her seat. “Addie was just telling me all about your plans for the day.”

 

“Oh really? Well I would love to hear what plans I have today.”

 

Addie wipes her mouth on her sleeve, and it takes every fiber in Jemma’s being not to correct her—as it’s a special day. “We have to bake cookies,” she counts off on one finger, then the next, “make snow angels, help Auntie Bobbi decorate the tree, and watch  _ The Polar Express,  _ and read _ The Night Before Christmas.” _

 

“Wow,” Jemma raises her eyebrows. “And in that order, specifically, no less.”

 

“Sounds like you have a full day ahead.” Fitz is cleaning Molly’s leftovers on her chin with a wet wipe while the baby watches him attentively, eyes adoring.

 

“What time is your new connecting flight?”

 

“Ah, noon. So we’ll be heading that way in about an hour.”

 

“I’m not so sure about that,” Bobbi’s stomps into the kitchen are accompanied by the slamming of a door, sounding irritated.

 

“What?” Fitz asks, at the same time that Jemma says, “How do you mean?”

 

“The main highway is closed! Apparently there’s a tree down on the road and it did a lot of damage, and no one can clear it until the snow lets up.” She throws her snow-covered beanie onto the counter to prove her point. “Which means I can’t get to the grocery store, and have absolutely no eggs for cookies.”

 

“Well I’m sure Daisy will let you borrow a handful from the diner,” Jemma reasons, so that Addie may exhale. “But more importantly, how are Fitz and Molly going to make their flight?”

 

Fitz frowns. “Surely there’s an alternative route.” Bobbi shakes her head grimly.

 

“It’s a small town; only one way in, and one way out. And that way is closed until tomorrow at the earliest.”

 

The spoon Fitz had used to feed Molly clatters sharply against the tile floor. The baby keens, but otherwise no one makes a sound. He is twitching all over as he scrambles to pick it up, leaping out of his seat and to the back door. “Could you—could you watch her for a minute? I’ve just. I gotta go.”

 

The door slams for a second time and Jemma flinches. He’s basically a stranger, only having been in her life for a day and a half, but a gut feeling of hers has rooted deep and can’t let him run away. 

 

“Could you watch Addie too?” she asks Bobbi, slipping out of her seat just as quickly before she can stop herself from following him. “I’ll just be a moment.”

 

Bobbi huffs. “Kid, remind me to add a childcare fee to the website later.”

 

“Roger that,” Addie confirms.

 

—

 

He can’t stop shaking. The wind whips around his face, the cold strikes against his cheeks like tiny shards of glass, and he can’t seem to swallow a full breath of air. 

 

They must think he’s gone mad, running down the street in his pajamas and slippers and leaving Molly with two women he’s only just met. They must think he’s a crazy for doing this. A disappointment. Absolutely unfit for—and then he hears his name.

 

He halts and spins around, and low and behold, Jemma Simmons is zipping up her coat as she sprints after him. “Fitz!”

 

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and first finger as he waits for her to catch up.

 

“Fitz, I’m  _ so _ sorry. This is all my fault.” 

 

“No, no it isn’t.”

 

“Of course it is,” her face scrunches up. “We practically  _ stole _ your daughter’s toy. And I’m the one who invited you here when you could’ve found a cheap motel on the other side of the highway—you wouldn’t be in this mess if you had!”

 

“No, cause it was my bloody idea to fly out of town the week of Christmas when it could have been any other time. My bloody fault for not checking the radar.” He knows he’s rambling, pacing, honestly crying at this point, but the the air is leaving his lungs much quicker than it is returning and now that he hasn’t started talking, he can’t seem to stop. “All I wanted was to do better for her in the long run. And then to give her the Christmas they deserved to.” 

 

Jemma follows along, listening as he goes on and on, until she freezes. “They.” She stops him in his tracks with a hand on his chest. “Fitz, who are  _ they?” _

 

Fitz allows himself to be halted, and it gives him the opportunity to inhale deeply. After, he does not look at her. Instead, he covers her gloved hand with his bare palm.

 

“Molly’s parents,” he releases with a shaky  _ whoosh  _ of air leaving his lungs. He hears her breath hitch, and it gives him the courage to meet her eye. “They...they were my best friends from our university. Different classes, but yeah. I finally introduced them at a holiday party on Christmas Eve our sophomore year, and they were married on Christmas Day just four years later.” The memory he’d blocked out for so long now makes his lips quirk up just the slightest bit as he continues, filling her in on their tales and travels and the lightness they brought to his life over the next few years, as she nods attentively with glassy eyes.

 

“When Molly was born, everything just fell into place. They named me her godfather—not that any of us were religious, but I appreciated the sentiment anyway.” 

 

As he presses on, it’s as if she has figured out how the story ends before he even has to say it, because her fingers shift so that his fall in place between them. She squeezes. He squeezes back.

 

“Never knew how serious they were about that, about what would happen to her if something happened to them, until I got that call and,” Fitz shakes his head, and he’s so grateful that she has apparently caught on, because he can’t go any further. Her opposite hand has come up to cradle his cheek, wiping away his tears before they can freeze against his skin.

 

“I searched, you know,” he leans into her touch. “I looked up everyone I could possibly think of that they knew. Neither had close family, no, but there had to be _ someone _ . Someone better than me, because I could never be enough.”

 

“Fitz…”

 

“But I went to the station anyway, to see Molly and talk to the social worker, and the moment I held her, and saw her little face and, um. It clicked.” He smiles tearfully at the thought. “I knew I could never part with her, ever.”

 

“Fitz,” she sniffles. “I had no idea.”

 

But he understands. “It’s been a hard year, everything was finalized just a few months ago, and things got better. But now—“ he shakes his head, laughing humorlessly. “All they talked about was how symbolic her first Christmas was going to be, with their history. Just feel like I’ve let them down.”

 

He peers down at their hands again, watching them rise and fall with his chest. The hurt hasn’t gone away, but it does feel good to get it off his chest.

 

“This is Addie’s first Christmas since her father left.”

 

Fitz’s head snaps up at once, shock flooding his veins. “What?”

 

To say she’s smiling would be ironic, without noting the tension radiating from her body is steaming enough to melt the snow. 

 

“He—we weren’t much to each other after she was born anyway, but he’s always been around in some way for her. Birthdays, occasional weekend visits, and always Christmas,” she bites her lip before moving forward. “Until this year, he decided fatherhood just wasn’t for him. He signed over his rights and I gained full custody six months ago.”

 

“Jemma,” he sighs, unsure of what else to say. He thinks back to meeting little Addie on the plane, her curiosity and otherworldly sense of humor reining him in from the beginning. He can't even  _ imagine _ .

 

“He wasn’t an award-worthy dad to start with, and part of me is selfish enough to admit I’m relieved, but Addie…” Fitz can see the way she is fighting back a sob, “she just doesn’t understand. And how could I expect her to?”

 

“My dad left too,” he tells her without really meaning to, but the spark of some semblance of empathy that appears on her face makes him glad that he did. “I was just a little older than her when he did. It was hard, but over time I understood it was for the better.” Giving her a smile, he adds: “She’s strong, like her mum. I know she’ll get it too.”

 

“Oh, Fitz,” she throws her arms around him in the warmest of hugs. His find their way around her waist and they stay that way for a long while. 

 

Then, Jemma pulls back just as abruptly as she had collided with him. “Oh, you must be freezing!” Before he can protest—despite the fact that, oh wow, he  _ is _ actually freezing—she’s unwrapped her wooly scarf and looped it around his neck. It’s warm from her body and smells like her hair and he is so, so grateful now that the adrenaline of the moment has worn off and his teeth are chattering. 

 

“You know what we are going to do now?” she says, holding him firmly by either end of her scarf.

 

“Go someplace warm?” he hopes.

 

“That,” she grins, “and we are going to give our children the  _ best _ Christmas ever.”

 

—

 

“Mummy!” Addie crows in delight as Jemma and Fitz make their return.

 

“Where did you go?” Bobbi follows her voice into the lobby, Molly on her hip. “It’s been over an hour.”

 

“We just had a talk,” Jemma explains, rolling her eyes when Bobbi gives her a bemused look, instead gesturing to the paper bag in Fitz’s arms.  _ “And _ we went by May’s to borrow a carton of eggs.”

 

Addie leaps from her spot on the sofa, letting out a squeal. “Cookies are back on!”

 

“Oh yes they are, darling. And they aren’t going to bake themselves!” She pushes her lightly on the back, scooting her little body towards the kitchen. “Go ahead and wash up, we’ll join you in a moment.”

 

As if only now noticing he has returned, the baby begins to babble excitedly, reaching and grabbing for Fitz with both hands.

 

Jemma bites her lip to hide her smile as she watches him take her in his arms, throwing her gently above him and making her shriek.

 

“I’m here, Mollisaurus!” he blows a raspberry on her neck and holds her close. “I’m here, I’m here.”

  
  


—

  
  


After a sweet-smelling morning of baking and decorating cookies—that turns into quite the flour tossing war, much to Bobbi and her freshly cleaned kitchen’s dismay—and afternoon of building a small army of snowmen in tasteful scarves and hats, as well as a few snow angels and yet  _ another _ impromptu snowball fight, Bobbi sets up the tv to stream  _ The Polar Express  _ as Fitz gives Molly a bath in the sink and Jemma wrestles her own shivering daughter out of her wet winter-wear and into a warm sweater, leggings, and fuzzy socks.

 

When they regroup in the living room, Bobbi drops the last of the boxes marked  _ tree bling! _ onto the sofa. 

“Okay, that’s the last of it.” Bobbi folds her arms over her favorite tacky Christmas sweater, covering the poorly stitched Darth Vader and surrounding snowflakes.

 

“Goodness, Bob,” Jemma quirks an eyebrow. “Did you want the tree to be seen from space?”

 

“And just for that, you’re on popcorn stringing.” She nudged the unopened tin of popcorn towards her with her foot before delegating. “Fitz, you’re on lights. Addigator, you’ll help me with ornament organization. And Molly,” she turns her head comically towards the baby, gnawing on her worn monkey and watching curiously from her pack n’ play, “you can supervise.”

 

This sends Addie into a fit of giggles as she begins to arrange the baubles by shape, size, and then color. Jemma and Fitz weave up and around each other, tugging their respective strings along the branches. Bobbi and the seven year old work carefully to place the ornaments in a tasteful manor, and all quote the movie line for line as they work.

 

“I think this might be the best tree I’ve ever seen,” Jemma compliments as they step back to admire their hard work. The lights are crooked as all get-out, the branches are a bit wonky from a variety of weights pulling on them, and there’s definitely a gap towards the back that everyone is choosing to ignore for lack of ability to reach it, but overall, it’s a sight.

 

“I have to agree,” Fitz nods. “It’s kind of incredible.” 

 

“I dunno, what do you think, Ad?” Bobbi prompts.

 

Addie rests her upturned knuckle against her chin, pondering as she studies the tree from various angles. “It’s missing something.”

 

“Oh?” Jemma frowns, dramatic.

 

Fitz kneels next to the girl, inspecting from her point of view. “You know, I think you might be on to something.”

 

Molly lets out a loud gurgle, and they all turn to look. Now that she has their attention, she cackles and claps her chubby little hands.

 

“That’s it!” Addie dashes over to her. “Molly, you’re a genius!”

 

“What do you mean?” Bobbi asks, dramatic as Jemma.

 

Addie points to the baby’s onesie, featuring yet another decorative Christmas tree. “We need a star!”

 

Fitz smacks his forehead, acting gobsmacked with the rest of the adults at the brilliant idea, as Addie fishes the star from the final box.

 

“Up we go,” he announces, tickling her sides before lifting her atop his shoulder, allowing her to add the final piece to their festive puzzle.

 

“ _ Now _ it’s the best tree,” Addie dubs.

 

—

 

Some time later, as they’re huddled around the sofas watching the end of the movie—both children nearly dozing off—a knock on the door startles them awake.

 

“Who could that be?” Bobbi asks, rising to her feet to answer it. Addie climbs out from her spot between Jemma and Fitz to join her. 

 

“Father Christmas, perhaps?” Jemma wonders aloud.

 

As Bobbi opens the door, Addie squeals. 

 

“Even better! It’s Uncle Trip!” She shrieks gleefully as the man in question, dressed in green and a Santa hat dangling from his head, tugs her onto his hip and spins her around in the doorway.

 

“And Auntie Daisy,” Daisy scoffs, hands on her hips. “You marry the man  _ once _ and he steals  _ everyone  _ from you.”

 

The little girl giggles, reaching for her aunt instead as the pair pass over the threshold, shutting out the coldness of the evening behind them. 

 

“Happy ho-ho-ho to you all,” Trip bellows, as Jemma rises to greet them. 

 

“And the same to you,” she hugs him and then Daisy. “What a wonderful surprise!” She knows the so-called surprise in her voice is absolutely see-through, but luckily the remainder of the room lets it slip nonetheless. She also uses this time to discreetly take a large bag out from behind her friend’s back and sneak it into the kitchen pantry.

 

“Fitz, this is Trip,” she introduces upon her return. “Trip, Fitz.”

 

“Ah, the Christmas castaway. Nice to put a face to the name.” Trip extends his hand out to shake his. 

 

“Fitz is an architect for hire,” Bobbi nudges him with her elbow when he greets her afterwards.

 

“Oh really? Cause my buddy Mack’s business is looking for some help with an expansion if you’re interested.”

 

“Hang it up, babe,” Daisy swats at him. “I’ve been  _ begging _ Jemma to take the open position at the doc in the box for a  _ month  _ now. We’re bad recruiters.”

 

Fitz flashes Jemma a thoughtful look, to which she shakes her head fondly. 

 

The group adjusts to accommodate their extra guests in the living room, as discussion flows, and an adorable baby is passed around. Everything about it makes all of Jemma’s stress for the past few months seem to disintegrate and scatter about, not unlike snowflakes. Everyone she deeply cares about that is able to be here, is here. 

 

And Fitz, she reminds herself. And Fitz, the man she’d roped into following her home and accidentally left stranded for the time being, is here too, stacking her friends’ drained mugs in the sink. He is among all of those who mean the world to her, and it oddly looks right. Something about it is strange, but something else is even brighter, like the last stroke on a painting of a glowing sunrise. 

 

Before she can give it another thought, she maneuvers Addie off her lap and stands to refill the empty plate of cookies with the extra on the kitchen counter. Fitz is walking out at the same time, flashing her a content grin. She returns it, only to halt when she hears a sudden outcry of  _ ooooooooooh _ s from behind her back.

 

“What?” she asks, confused.

 

“Look up, Mummy!” Addie giggles. Her eyebrows shoot to the ceiling before she moves any other muscle. 

 

Oh, no.

 

Only to confirm her impending doom, they tilt their heads up to find none other than a sprig of mistletoe, taunting her from the top of the threshold. 

 

“Kiss, kiss, kiss,” Bobbi starts the chanting, because of course she would.

 

Heat rises to Jemma’s cheeks. “Oh, bugger off, you.” but now Trip and Addie have joined in. _ Traitors _ . 

 

“Kiss!” Daisy hollers, cupping her mouth with her hand to carry the sound. “It’s the law!”

 

“It is  _ not _ the law.”

 

“Uh, my mom is town mayor,” Daisy barks back. “It’s  _ absolutely _ the law,”

 

She turns back to face Fitz, hoping he can read the apology on her face as he’s taken to very well in the past two days. He tilts his head and raises an eyebrow, a silent question, before he leans forward and presses his lips to hers, one hand finding her waist. 

 

It’s a breath of a kiss, not longer than the amount of time it takes for the entirety of the room to let out a  _ whoop _ of delight. When he releases her, she chases his mouth for the smallest of seconds before she comes back to herself. He offers her a sheepish smile, one that she returns when she sees a faint redness on his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

 

Molly’s shriek jolts them apart, the baby clapping again after all the excitement.

 

“In other news,” Fitz finally turns away, the slight change of octave in his voice not going unnoticed, “I think it’s time for this one to get ready for bed.” He pulls Molly from Daisy’s lap, making a face as she bats at his curls.

 

“This one’s not far from it,” she agrees, nodding towards Addie, as the others rise and begin collecting their things to depart for the evening.

 

“Nuh uh,” Addie retorts, “I still have a  _ liiiiittle _ longer.”

 

“Yes,” she agrees, “but if you postpone your bedtime for too long we won’t have time to read  _ The Night Before Christmas, _ now will we?”

 

“Yeah, and it’s Mol’s very  _ first _ Christmas,” Fitz adds. “I’m sure she’d love to hear it with the help from an expert.”

 

And with that, Addie is off to their room to brush her teeth.

 

—

 

To his surprise, both girls have fallen asleep before the end of the story: Addie against her pillow, Molly on his lap. 

 

Jemma sighs, content, and closes the book, resting it on the bedside table before dropping a kiss to her daughter’s hair. “Night, love.”

 

Carefully, he moves off the bed and adjust his hold on the baby, and carries her back to his room across the hall. Smoothing out the soft tufts of hair sticking up from her head, he kisses her temple and places her in the portable crib.

 

He watches her for a moment, studying her features and trying to pinpoint which parent each came from, and wishing with everything he has that they could be here to tell him.

 

He starts just a bit as he feels Jemma’s hand brush his shoulder.

 

“Ready?” she whispers.

 

He tips his head back to look at her. “Yeah, ready.”

 

She beams before turning to leave and, as he’s done from the moment he met her, he follows.

 

Together, they work around the clock to unload and wrap presents from secret hiding places—toys, clothes, and books for Addie that Jemma had shipped here at an earlier time, and some for Molly that Daisy had thoughtfully delivered upon her arrival—arrange them strategically and beneath the tree, and sprinkle a trail of flour from the chimney to the tree to look like snow.

 

“Something my mum did for me growing up,” he explains.

 

“Brilliant,” Jemma praises.

 

Once they’ve succeeded in their shenanigans without waking the kids nor Bobbi, they collapse on the living room floor, passing a decorative plate back and forth to munch on Santa’s cookies, laughing as they reflect on the day’s events.

 

After a while, things grow softer, quieter, as the exhaustion of the day finally catches up to them. Fitz lets out a yawn, leaning back against the ottoman, and she follows not far after him.

 

“Fitz?” she breaks the silence, just as he’s starting to nod off.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“I think your friends would be so proud of you.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah.” She turns her head to face him. “And Fitz?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“I’m proud of you too.”

 

And then he kisses her before he can talk himself out of it.


End file.
